Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 263 - 257: I Am Going to Poison Your Tea (Win-Win bonus)

Chapter 263: Chapter 257: I Am Going to Poison Your Tea (Win-Win bonus)

Gabriel didn’t move, but something behind his eyes shifted.

"You are doing more than you should," Damian went on. "You’re carrying the weight of a court, a bloodline, a family that used you, and a pregnancy that could reshape the entire Empire. And you do it like it costs you nothing, like you’re already prepared to bleed alone if it keeps everyone else standing."

His voice didn’t rise.

It simply held.

"Let me help. Let the others help. You don’t have to burn yourself out just to prove that you can’t be broken."

Gabriel’s jaw clenched.

He looked away, not because he was ashamed, but because he was too tired to keep holding eye contact without something giving way.

"I’m not trying to prove anything," he said, quietly. "I just don’t trust anyone else to do it right."

Then Damian stepped forward, closer than before.

Gabriel didn’t move.

He didn’t flinch when Damian reached up and pinched his chin between two fingers, tilting his face up with unhurried, deliberate pressure.

"You should trust me," Damian said, voice low, voice close. "You’re not alone in this. You’ve never been."

Their eyes locked, gold and dark, furious and fraying. The air between them snapped taut like a drawn wire, humming with unspoken things: fear, failure, pride, and love.

Gabriel’s lips parted—but no sound came.

For the first time in years, tears had formed in his dark brown eyes. No sob. No trembling. Just the slow, quiet betrayal of exhaustion finally slipping through the cracks he never let anyone see.

One tear slid down his cheek. Then another.

Damian stilled.

Something dangerous coiled in his chest at the sight—tight, primal, wrong. Not because Gabriel cried, but because he had to. Because it had gotten this far.

Because someone like Gabriel, who didn’t bend, was finally breaking in silence.

"Gabriel," he said, barely above a breath.

Damian pulled him into his arms without a word, without a command, without any of the force he was known for—just the steady, unyielding pressure of someone who wasn’t going to let go until Gabriel did first.

Gabriel resisted for half a breath.

Then his hands gripped Damian’s coat, fingers knotting in the fabric like he was anchoring himself to something that wouldn’t move.

And he cried silently.

Tears slid silently down his face, soaking into the shoulder of Damian’s suit, and for a long moment, nothing else mattered. Not the palace. Not the scan. Not the Empire’s hunger for something to exploit.

Just this: the way Gabriel shook once. And Damian didn’t flinch.

"I’m so tired," Gabriel whispered.

Damian pressed a hand to the back of his neck, holding him close. His golden eyes shining with the promise of destroying anyone that touched him.

"I know," he said. "You don’t have to be alone with it anymore."

Gabriel buried his face in Damian’s shoulder, the fine wool of the tailored coat muffling the sound of his breath. He clenched tighter—fingers curled into fabric like it was the only thing keeping him upright, the only thing tethering him to this moment.

Damian didn’t move. Didn’t speak again. Just held him.

One hand rested at the nape of Gabriel’s neck, the other curled around his back, slow and steady in its pressure, as if reminding Gabriel that not everything in his world had to be earned, fought for, or hidden behind armor.

Then, gently, Damian released his pheromones into the space between them, warm and grounding, velvet-laced power woven with scent. A quiet promise. A tether.

Gabriel exhaled—a soft, almost reluctant sigh—like a breath he’d been holding for days finally found its way out.

For a moment, the world felt lighter.

"Do you want me to get us to our chambers?" Damian asked, voice low, brushing the top of Gabriel’s hair.

Gabriel didn’t lift his head. His words came muffled, dry, and tired and still distinctly him:

"It will be a sight for the attendants to see my crying face."

Damian smiled faintly, fond of the man he loved.

"Then I’ll clear the hallway."

Gabriel grunted. "Or blindfold them."

"We could do both," Damian murmured. "Or I could just teleport us and the only one who’ll know is Edward."

Gabriel gave a tired sound that might’ve been a laugh, if barely.

"So I still lose either way."

"At least this way, you lose with dignity," Damian offered, tone smooth but warm.

Gabriel lifted his head just enough to glare at him—damp lashes, flushed cheeks, and all.

"Teleport us," he muttered. "Before I remember how to use words properly and say something unforgivable."

Damian’s grip adjusted, anchoring him close as the ether began to ripple softly around them—calm, precise, private.

"I’ll risk it," he said, and then added, more gently, "but not tonight."

The light shimmered around their forms, folding space like breath between words.

And in the next blink—

They reappeared in a flicker of etherlight, subtle, silver-edged, and landed in the middle of their chambers, where the fire had long burned down and the scent of cedar and parchment lingered faintly in the air.

Damian didn’t let go immediately.

He stood there, arms still around Gabriel, grounding them both in the silence.

Gabriel didn’t protest.

Didn’t shift.

He simply leaned his forehead briefly into the side of Damian’s neck, breathing in the scent of him—darker now, thicker with alpha musk and bond-fused weight, but strangely calming. Familiar in a way the palace never managed to be.

Damian eased him toward the bed, and Gabriel sat without resistance, pulling the blanket around his shoulders like armor. Damian didn’t speak, just settled beside him, their thighs touching, the ether between them steady and quiet.

"Home," Gabriel muttered, as if testing the word. Then softer, "Gods, I hate that it feels like home."

"No," Damian said quietly, "you don’t."

Gabriel pulled back just enough to glare at him with exhausted red eyes. "You were supposed to comfort me."

"I am," Damian replied, brushing a hand against his back. "Just not with lies."

That earned a breath—half sigh, half scoff—from Gabriel as he muttered, "Incredible. I cry once and now everyone’s brave."

Damian didn’t miss a beat. "I expected your cry to look uglier, honestly. From how much you didn’t want to do it."

Gabriel turned his head slowly, blinking at him with deadpan disbelief. "You want to try that sentence again before I end your bloodline?"

Damian’s lips twitched. "Just saying. You held out like it was going to be catastrophic. Turns out you’re almost charming when you fall apart."

Gabriel huffed, dragging the blanket tighter around his shoulders like a shield against both the cold and the conversation. "I am going to poison your tea."

"You’d have to make it first."

They sat in silence for a moment longer, the banter fading gently into the quiet between them.

And when Gabriel leaned his head lightly against Damian’s shoulder again, he said nothing more.

Damian turned slightly, resting his chin on the crown of Gabriel’s head.

"I’ve got you," he whispered.

Gabriel closed his eyes.

"I know."